You spend a little over six years in captivity in the Colombian jungle together — tortured, sick, and hopeless — and you’d think that, once you’re free, all you’d really care about is the fact that the nightmare has finally come to an end.
But, in a day and age where surviving an especially shitty chapter in your life almost requires that you write a memoir to forever document this painful period in your life, it’s really no surprise to find a book like Ingrid Betancourt’s “Even Silence Has An End” — but what’s surprising is that one of her fellow captives, an American who was part of a drug surveillance operation, publicly bashed Betancourt in his own memoir and claimed she was “worse than the guards.”
You know, I remember the footage of the former Colombian presidential candidate, Betancourt being released in 2008 after years of being held hostage in the jungle, where she’d been chained by the neck to trees, suffered from untreated infections, long periods of starvation and endured torturous stretches of forced marches.
The recipient of multiple international awards, Betancourt was one of the more famous political prisoners and was taken hostage in 2002, while she was running for president.
When she was finally rescued 2008 along with 14 other hostages — among them were three Americans.
Marc Gonsalves, Keith Stansell, and Thomas Howes were American Northrop Grumman contractors who ran into plane engine trouble during a drug surveillance mission. After their plane crashed, they were taken hostage by the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (aka FARC).
Stansell, an American intelligence analyst and ex-Marine, has been the most critical of the three, claiming that Betancourt was “the most disgusting human being I’ve ever encountered.”
He claimed Betancourt was haughty, self-absorbed, stole their food, hoarded books, and risked their lives by informing the guards that they were CIA.
So, having read about all of this prior to picking up Betancourt’s memoir, I couldn’t help but look at her account of things with a grain of salt.
But you know what?
You read her book and you can’t help but understand both sides of the stories; I mean, I think our high school English teachers forced us to read “Lord of the Flies” for a reason — it helps you to understand that, in some situations, when you’re stuck with a bunch of other people under circumstances that aren’t in your control, this ugly side of you starts to emerge the longer you’re in that situation.
In her memoir, Betancourt recounts a number of attempts to run away. She even stood up to the guerrillas on a number of occasions, displaying what I thought were remarkable shows of courage in an attempt to stick by her principles; but it seems that some of her fellow captives saw her as nothing more than a troublemaker who made things more difficult for them in the short term.
Reading this book, there were moments where I felt like I was being held captive right along with Betancourt — and I don’t mean that in a good way. The writing was okay — if a little grandiose at times — and I didn’t find it difficult to slough through…but still, reading it, I could only begin to imagine what it was like to actually go through what she did.
At one point, she writes, “The flatness of life, the boredom, time that was forever starting over again just the same — it all acted like a sedative.”
Man, did I ever get what she was talking about.